I caught myself writing a poem today
time does not stop.
And sometimes it rains.
I burn my fingers when I cook.
My yellow rice comes out orange and I put ketchup on everything.
Sometimes I pay my bills late.
I cry when I read sad stories
Sometimes I foget myself and talk too much about sex.
But once in a while I get it right.
Think of me as you wake
When I was young, I had one key.
So if my mom wasn’t home I could always get in.
In high school I had two keys,
one for home and one for my diary.
For a while I had a handcuff key.
Just for laughs, nothing here to see.
When I fell in love I had no keys
because there was only one shared between him and me.
And now I have eight keys
and twice as much responsibility.
We all dream of superheroes,
of those masked men, and sometimes women,
whose sole desire is to save us, to catch us when we fall,
to set us free.
The superhero is the one who,
during Act Two, Scene Three,
will appear just in time to give you the happy ending you’ve always wanted.
They’re the ones who have all the answers
and know all the secrets to your soul.
The ones who know exactly how you like to be kissed.
But Superheroes don’t exist.
They will reach no further than the glossy pages of
DC and Marvel or the silver screen.
I think all my life I’ve been waiting for my superhero to show up.
To kiss me. To love me. To save me.
To set me free.
But this time I will not wait for some one else.
This time, finally, I will save myself.